


Tradition

by DickBaggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sastiel - Freeform, Schmoop, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:26:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1206034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/pseuds/DickBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas knows all the old traditions for Valentine's Day, but apparently those are all batshit crazy, so he makes an attempt at a modern VDay for Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tradition

Sam woke up later than usual, groggy and disoriented from too much sleep. The clock said nine. The bed was empty beside him, blankets neatly rearranged back in place and cold when he spread his hand over them. He didn't bother with a shirt; the bunker was always perfectly temperate even with a foot of snow outside and the wind faintly howling. Even the floor was heated somehow, warm under Sam's bare feet on the way to the kitchen.

He paused in the doorway because, well, it was weird to smell something _cooking_ while Dean was gone, downright dangerous that it was Cas at the stove and borderline foolish that he was shirtless and unshod with a spatula in each hand. He was in a pair of Sam's sweats, still loose with the waistband folded over two or three times, hanging precariously off his hips. What else was there to do but stare? Just for a while, and anyway, Cas had to know Sam was there, always knew where he was by virtue of his Grace.

No surprise when Cas turned around with the tiniest smirk on his lips. “Hello, Sam.”

Sam scratched the back of his head, tried not to leer and failed immediately. If the sweats were precarious from the back, they were a downright dubious in the front. “You're cooking?” Sam managed, walking the distance to the stove with a stupid fluster-blush creeping up his neck, making his face feel hot. He stood beside Cas, in front of the stove with two burners on, two pans going for bacon and pancakes.

“It's one of the things people do for Valentine's Day, one of the modern things at least.” Cas stared down at the pans, poked at the just-crispy bacon with a spatula. “I hope it's a suitable breakfast.”

Sam nudged at Cas with his shoulder, slipped one long arm around his naked waist and planted a kiss on the top of his hair. “It looks good, Cas, I didn't expect anything.”

“Well,” Cas shifted around in Sam's embrace, staring pensive at the cooking food. “I ran a few ideas by Dean and apparently, most of my notions for Valentine's Day were outdated and,” he paused, scowled, and Sam could _hear_ his brother in Cas's intonation, “vaguely dusted with 'crazy old time religion' so he gave me some suggestions.”

“Uh-huh.”

Cas pondered something for a minute, Sam saw it in his face, and then spoke up again, flipping two perfectly browning pancakes. “I still don't understand how this turned into a strictly romantic holiday and at the same time, eschewed a majority of the origins and the traditional celebrations.”

“Such as?” Sam was vaguely listening, sliding up behind Cas and wrapping his arms around his bare chest, resting his chin on the angel's head. He was warm, the stove was warm, _everything_ was heated and he'd only been up for five minutes.

“If we're speaking strictly of the Christian origins that most of western canon recognize, we're talking about secret marriages. But Dean didn't think that was a good idea. In fact, he said it might be illegal in Kansas, but I don't see how cooking breakfast can match up to that kind of bond between people.”

“Marriage isn't the same now as it was then, I think,” Sam muttered into Cas's sleepy-messy hair. He smelled like bacon, everything did, salty and delicious and Sam had no problem with breakfast instead of a clandestine wedding.

“Of course you can go back further, to the Romans, which I'm sure you know about.”

“A bit.”

“Can I go on?” Cas asked, tilting his head up all sweet.

Sam nodded; he loved hearing Cas go on and on about anything and everything and nothing and all the mythology he knew (which was a lot) and all the things he didn't understand (which was even more). “Bacon's done, but keep talking.”

Cas smiled up at him with his mouth closed, dumped the bacon onto the waiting plate layered with paper towels and shut the burner off. He was surprisingly good at multitasking, Sam thought, listening to Cas talk with ease, delighting in the reverberations from his deep voice thumping through his chest where they pressed together.

“It was actually older than the Romans, but everything gets superseded by modern religion and culture. It started as the first festival of spring, which seems strange given all of our snow, but I think there's been calender shifts since then, not to mention the weather changing drastically, as it does. Predictably, the Romans turned it into a fertility festival, and they'd run naked through the streets. Apparently, that is also an antiquated custom.”

Sam snorted out a laugh, bending his head to nuzzle against Cas's long neck. “Shame. What did they sacrifice?”

“Goats, of course, but also dogs, sheep, the general Roman gamut.”

“Can't do that either, can we?”

“No, although I did read about giving dogs as gifts, and see a number of things at the store with dogs on them, but again, your brother told me I had the wrong idea.”

“So you settled for breakfast?”

Cas turned the second burner off, flipped the pancakes over to the stack he'd already made earlier and turned around, looping his arms up over Sam's neck. “I'm _starting_ with breakfast. There are other modern traditions to come.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Cas shrugged one shoulder. “You'll see. There are surprises I'm not supposed to spoil. Good surprises, don't worry.”

Sam chuckled out, “Not worried, just...”

“Suspicious?”

“Curious.” He bent down, nuzzled his nose against Cas's and pressed against his lips all sweet and slow. He tasted like _bacon_ and Sam's stomach rumbled low. He made a face and Cas laughed quiet, something Sam felt more than he heard.

“Sit down,” Cas whispered, sliding his mouth along Sam's jaw, gently pushing him away.

Sam complied happily, sitting in his usual seat facing the stove, happy to watch Cas bustle around in those fucking low sweatpants. When their plates were piled up, coffee poured, everything set, Cas stood with his hands on hips, surveying the table. He looked deep in thought again, all pensive and perfect and Sam scooched his chair back, grabbed the angel around the waist, set him easily astride his lap and kissed him until the bacon flavour was gone, until it was just Cas's taste again, warm and familiar in his mouth. Better than any breakfast.

 

Sam tried to help clean up but Cas had this way of ordering him around, this look and this tone that Sam couldn't argue with, especially given how hard it made him. And any excuse to watch Cas in those too-big sweats, really, busying around while they slipped down lower and lower, barely clinging to the plush curve of his ass. He was bent over the sink when Sam finally had enough.

There was no surprising Cas so he didn't even try, just stalked up behind him and pressed hard up against the angel, one hand curling around his hip, the other resting on the front waistband of those pants. He licked around the rim of Cas's ear, nudged at his neck with his nose. “You done?”

“Done?” Cas looked back, looked _far_ too innocent.

Sam huffed out a laugh and pressed his hand against the baggy sweats, easily found Cas's dick and groped him through the pants. “Done swanning around with these pants falling off?”

“Wasn't swanning,” Cas grunted, dipped his head back against Sam's shoulder.

“No?” Sam squeezed Cas's dick again, all soft sweatpants and hardness swelling up in his hand. He spent a second more squeezing and then let go, toyed with the waistband instead, dipping it low enough to see the root of Cas's dick, lower still until he was sprung free. “Cause these go awful low, and something got me all hard.” Sam jammed his own cock against Cas to prove his point, ground against his soft ass and bit his lip. “Wasn't the bacon.”

“But...it was good, wasn't it? The breakfast?”

“It was great,” Sam said low, ghosting his thumb over Cas's shaft, up and down, tugging gently at his foreskin. “Do you know what you get when you make someone breakfast for Valentine's Day, Cas?”

“No,” Cas groaned out, eyes squeezed shut and breath hitching, caught in his throat.

Sam bumped against Cas's shoulder with his, turned him around all rough and pressed him back against the counter. He ground against Cas again, all hipbones and Cas's dick jabbing into his stomach, laughingly batted away Cas's hands when he tried to shove between them and grab for Sam's pajama pants. “Make me breakfast and you get your dick sucked,” Sam told him, all serious.

Cas punched out a breath, dick twitching between them, blinking up furiously at Sam. Only took a second to regain composure though, even with Sam sinking onto the floor, nuzzling happily at his balls. “We have plans, Sam,” Cas gasped, hand tangling so naturally in Sam's long hair just to rest there, no real sense of urgency.

“Yeah?” Sam asked, tilted his head up. “So you want me to stop?”

It was beautiful, Cas panting above him, his fingers moving on their own through his hair, over his face, thumbing at his lips. Sam turned his head into Cas's hand, twirled his tongue around his thumb and Cas groaned again, finally shaking his head.

“No, but...”

“But?” Sam arched an eyebrow, dragging his mouth along Cas's hand and then back, gliding his wet lips along the side of Cas's dick. “This is a modern tradition, Cas, like you wanted.”

Cas's hips stuttered forward all on their own, and he took a deep breath, let it out slow and measured and stared down at Sam. “This is far from modern, Sam. This is very, very old. But I'll allow it.”

Sam chuckled against Cas's skin, finally fisted his hand around Cas's cock and drew him out all slow, heaving breaths in anticipation. And then Cas's hand in his hair went hard and tugged his head back sharp. Sam sucked in a surprised breath, had no choice but to stare up at Cas. He looked all fiery and serious and perfectly imposing, fingers threading deeper into Sam's hair, so fucking _scary_ but Sam loved it. It sent his pulse racing and Cas knew it.

A satisfied smirk played on Cas's wide lips and he looked past Sam's panting face, taking his body apart with his stormy dark eyes. “Show me, Sam.”

And it was that _voice_ again, that low commanding tone that made Sam's dick leak before he could even comply, so by the time he shoved his pants low and sprung himself out, he was already slick and ready, whispering, whining, “Anything, Cas,” even as Cas shoved deep, one thrust, all the way into Sam's mouth.


End file.
